


crybaby, crybaby (i need to cry, baby)

by thewinterose



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, not really sure what this is but i DO know that tohru needs a therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewinterose/pseuds/thewinterose
Summary: She wants to be a part of him forever, to never lose him. Her mother’s passing has made a monster of her desperation for others. Has turned her love into something that consumes wholly and completely, because she’s forgotten how to let it do anything else.Or:Tohru still doesn't fully know how to process grief.
Relationships: Honda Tohru/Sohma Kyou
Comments: 20
Kudos: 96





	crybaby, crybaby (i need to cry, baby)

**Author's Note:**

> not really sure what this is tbh. i've been so swamped with work and school that i haven't had time to really write much of anything but i missed writing for them so much that i just word vomited. also a very good friend of mine wrote a lovely poem and it inspired me to write something even more, so thank you!! you know who you are. 
> 
> enjoy!!
> 
> p.s. title taken from "cry baby" by the neighborhood

Grief makes her ugly. 

She doesn’t notice it at first, the way that she clings to things, to people, to anything and everything. 

At first it was her mother, and then the memory of her mother after she passed. She held onto the feel of her mother’s fingers, strong and callused and yet delicate somehow. And then when that faded, it was her eyes, warm and brown and inviting. And then her voice. Her clothes. The color of her hair. Anything and everything. Tohru turned it over and over in her head, whispering  _ forever,  _ transforming bright, sunny memories into brittle, paper thin versions of themselves; bleeding everything dry until it was bone-white and faded. Draining everything of its radiance, of its stark happiness. A parody of itself. 

She’s always been needy in that way. 

It doesn’t fade when she’s with Kyo. If anything that desperation becomes stronger. 

There will be times when she turns over in her sleep, half caught between sleep and consciousness, terrified down to the root of her because she dreamt once again of his lovely face, handsome and soft only for her, concealed behind darkness, behind a cage, locked away from her forever. 

She’ll gasp and cry, and he’ll come to her as he always does— dependable down to his bones— wiping her tears, cooing into her hair, grounding her with his touch. 

But she’s never grounded. She wants to bleed him of his saturation, breathe him in and turn him over and over and over inside her chest until she can feel him in there, breathing, always nestled beside her heart, between her ribs. 

She wants to be a part of him forever, to never lose him. Her mother’s passing has made a monster of her desperation for others. Has turned her love into something that consumes wholly and completely, because she’s forgotten how to let it do anything else. 

In these moments, she holds him tighter, slides her lips against his own, pulls him over her and begs for something that she pretends that she can’t articulate, won’t ever, because she’s afraid of where it may take her. 

Kyo obliges of course— he’ll never say no to her— and when he’s inside her, it feels like coming home, like being something more than herself, like being complete. She forgets what being afraid is like for a moment, and she won’t remember again until they’re done. 

When he’s finished, he tugs her close to him and she’ll nestle against his chest and count the beats of his heart, allows herself to get lost in the rhythm of it’s slowing pace. Pretends that it’s her own. 

He says he loves her and she’ll say it back, meaning it down to the marrow of her bones, loving him so much that it  _ aches.  _

He doesn’t know. 

He never will. 

Grief has made her ugly. 


End file.
